


Know Our Hearts

by DAfan7711



Series: Dragon Age - Short stories, Vignettes [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Rescue, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/pseuds/DAfan7711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after they first fall into bed together, Fenris and Garrett Hawke reconcile and Fenris moves in. But a blood mage's kidnapping of a mutual friend brings our heroes another dilemma: Much as they love each other, they've also fallen in love with a woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> According to Dragon Age 2 canon, every potential love interest is bi-sexual. Male or Female, your custom Hawke can romance whichever LI you choose, even in a rivalry relationship. In-game, there’s a chance to have a threesome with Zev if you’re romancing [Isabela](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Isabela). This story explores another option with two of Thedas’ favorite heartthrobs.
> 
> Envision the scruffy, burly default mage M!Hawke, voiced by [Nicholas Boulton](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0099610/?ref_=fn_al_nm_1), in Dragon Age: Inquisition. Those look like clingy acid-wash jeans to me. The fabulous [Gideon Emery](http://www.gideonemery.com/iWeb_Site/Official_Gideon_Emery.html) is the voice of Fenris.

It wasn’t uncommon for Garrett Hawke to stride into Caroline’s Lowtown office without knocking, but the vacant space behind his eyes was something entirely new.

“Caroline.” His voice was a hollow echo she’d never heard before.

“Garrett, what’s wrong?” She set the elfroot down on her potions table, brushed her hands clean on her skirt.

He took two strides forward, placed his hands on her hips, and leaned forward to kiss her. Before he could capture her lips, she pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“Garrett,” she said firmly, “snap out of it.”

He blinked and returned to himself.

“Caroline?” He was confused, but his voice was normal.

“Yeah,” her pounding heartbeat slowed, “It’s okay, just release me.”

His gaze slowly traveled down to his hands on her hips. His touch had been light and seductive before; as soon as he’d remembered himself, he’d gripped possessively.

She expected him to yank his hands away like he’d touched a hot iron, but he didn’t: he eased his grip and let his fingers slide across her rear end as he released her. She wasn’t sure if it was due to shock, or if he really did want to cop a feel.

“How did we get here?” he asked, pulling up his customary flirty smirk.

“Do you remember walking here?”

“No,” he frowned with concern. “I left the house for Varric’s . . .” he looked up. “Then I wanted to kiss you.”

His look turned pensive. He looked at her lips, then into her eyes, a bit too warmly for a man who wasn’t available. She squirmed in discomfort and turned away toward her worktable.

“Whose blood did you come in contact with?” She kept her tone even.

“I don’t know.”

She felt him take a step closer to her back, sensed his hands lifting to touch her shoulders. She couldn’t let him do that.

“I planted a secondary thought,” she blurted out roughly. “Whatever blood magic captured you this morning won’t be able to do so again.”

His hands dropped to his sides.

“I understand,” he said in a rare moment of seriousness, and it moved her as much as his teasing. She almost regretted her plan to never be anything other than his friend.

“Fenris is probably worried about you.” She looked over her shoulder, pretending everything was normal.

“He’s always grumpy, except when we . . .” Garrett flashed her a saucy grin and wink.

Caroline snorted a laugh. “Get out of here, you rogue.”

“Rogue?” Hawke smiled again and whipped his magic staff off his back with a flourish to twirl it like a baton. “Now who’s the one confused?”

_Me_ , she thought, mouth dry from the way his bare arm flexed with fluid motions. His other was mostly covered with straps and an arm-guard, and his acid-washed jeans did nothing to hide his muscular bulk. How could a mage, a ranged fighter, look like that?

His personality was as big as he was physically: all thick muscle, solid skull, shaggy black hair, and close, scruffy beard. He was perfect.

He was also a perfectly recognizable target. Hawke was always ticking off some mage or Templar, stumbling into some kind of trouble like this morning’s mind-mess. He really shouldn’t have been out alone without one of the others at his back. Fenris, Isabela, Varric, Aveline, Anders, or Merrill. They were all skilled defenders. She was just their friendly local herbalist and drinking buddy.

The flirtatious mage strapped his weapon to his back and left chuckling. He and Fenris—the only other man in the world as hot as Hawke—would probably be wrapped in each other’s arms as soon as he got home.

She sighed. Nope, not going there. She would not let herself daydream about Fenris’ lean strength and silver hair, his wide, assessing eyes that could bore into you as deeply as his magic fist. Why did his Lyrium tattoos have to be so beautiful? They were a brand from his now-dead master—they should disgust her, not turn her on.

But his voice, oh, his voice. Both their voices.

More than once at the Hanged Man, when the whole group met for drinks, she’d had to excuse herself to hide in the loo a few minutes: The blend of Hawke and Fenris’ voices . . .

With effort, she cleared the thoughts away. She’d need all her wits when she delivered elfroot potions to Anders’ free clinic in Darktown, the dirty, poverty-stricken underbelly of Kirkwall. Anders had become increasingly mopey and jumpy since Fenris moved in with Hawke, even though he and Hawke had never been more than friends, and Justice—Caroline suspected the parasitic spirit sharing Anders’ body now controlled him more than he controlled himself.

Her gift was clarity. She’d cleared Hawke’s mind this morning, but she couldn’t cure possession—or whatever condition this Anders-slash-Justice mess was. Neither could she call up any of the elements, or even a barrier spell—but the Templars still wanted her caged. Somehow, Hawke had convinced Knight-Captain Cullen not to drag her off to the Gallows. The blond Templar retained a sneer that turned her stomach with distaste, but he’d listened to the Champion and let her be.

Caroline secured fresh healing potions in a basket and stepped out her door, alone.

-

Hawke warred with his own heart on the walk home.

He’d lied when he told her, “I wanted to kiss you.” The truth was, “I want to kiss you. Always have.”

He’d kissed other women. Before Fenris. None after. And he’d never bedded anyone other than Fenris, not before they met, and not during their three years apart.

He loved Fenris more than life itself, frequently risked life and limb for him, yet Hawke clearly understood he loved another at the same time. Ironic, considering he’d never loved anyone before Fenris; now he was in love with two people and he’d been denying it for months.

When Caroline told him to ‘snap out of it,’ she probably hadn’t meant to give him as much clarity as she had. He was immune to mind control now—at least from whichever blood mage had clouded his mind this morning, a mystery he’d need to address soon—and he could tell others to ‘snap out of it’ now, too.

He was absolutely awed that she’d channeled some of that power into him, trusted him with a piece of herself while simultaneously stepping away to pretend she only thought of him as a friend.

He’d seen her yearning looks over the years—toward him _and_ Fenris. Then again, _everyone_ thought Fenris beautiful. Today Hawke realized her attraction to him—them?—was more than hormones.

He sighed. What did it matter? Fenris had taken three years to be willing to share Hawke’s bed again, finally trusting him enough to share all of himself. There was no way Fenris would be interested in sharing him with anyone else.

And Garrett Hawke would die before he let anyone separate him from the man he loved.


	2. Come home

Fenris paced in the foyer of the Amell estate, barely aware of three sets of worried eyes following him back and forth. Hawke had been gone more than two hours, when it usually only took him ninety minutes to hear the latest leads from Varric and get home.

Anger bubbled up inside and he growled.

Hawke’s dwarven servant, Bodahn, shot him a disapproving look and led his son Sandal toward the kitchen. Orana, the timid elf woman Hawke and Fenris had rescued from the slavers’ caves, scurried after them. Fenris was glad; he preferred brooding alone.

_He went alone. He could be hurt. Dead._

Never mind that it was broad daylight: Kirkwall’s streets always crawled with thugs and Hawke was a prominent face who lived outside The Gallows, where most mages were collard like dogs. Most of them should be there—except Hawke and their herbalist friend.

Not knowing what to do, Fenris wished for her wisdom now: Caroline could lay out all your options, warring or peaceful, quicker than any Knight-Commander. Not that she’d pick up a blade or bow and join them on their escapades. Caroline only joined them at the pub for drinks, or here at the house for parties. She was a lover, not a fighter. He doubted she had ever even squished a tiny spider.

Whereas he’d torn people’s hearts from their chests. Literally.

The thought made his vision go red.

“No, I can’t.” He gritted his teeth.

It had been so long since he’d gone on a rampage. He didn’t want to go down that path again. It made him forget himself, forget those he loved. He wanted to remember them both.

Hawke and Caroline.

Fenris had trusted Caroline even before he trusted Hawke. Fallen for her that first night they met in the pub. She had calmed his mind, respected him without cowering, shared generously of herself, but what could he offer her? He was a runaway slave—an elf hunted across nations by armored troops—with distinguishing marks that glowed in the dark, a beacon drawing Denarius and Hadriana to recapture him.

Without falling out of love, he’d plunged right in again. Hawke flirted with him, riled him up, made him feel desirable—a worthy man, not just desired. Then that Tevinter magister bitch Hadriana had tried to capture him and he’d torn her heart out while Hawke witnessed. When he’d gone to apologize to Hawke, Fenris lost it, shoved him up against the wall with kisses that burned blue, shared hot sex, and then—coward that he had been—stormed out and didn’t come back for three years.

Later he learned he was Hawke’s one-and-only, even when they were apart.

He’d hurt him by walking away. That memory made Fenris sad and took the hottest edges off his anger. Much as Fenris loved Caroline, even with Denarius and Hadriana dead, he wouldn’t ask Hawke to share him with anyone else.

He’d rather tear his own heart from his chest than hurt Hawke.

Fenris continued pacing.

He’d once reveled in the anger, thought it made him powerful and free. Then he’d met Caroline and realized the rage blinded him. Instead of a door to freedom, it was a candle sitting on a keg of blackpowder: a guarantee to die quickly and messily.

Not that she’d said so. She’d come to the Hanged Man with Hawke, said, “Nice to meet you, Fenris,” and sat between Fenris and Anders, a place not even Hawke dared sit.

Just sitting near her made everything make sense. It was like a wave of fresh water cleansed his mind. He felt angry, but he _knew_ he felt angry and _why_ —some stupid little reason he couldn’t remember now—and quickly defused it, so he could finish his pint with his friends instead of storming out like a rabid wolf.

Remembering that moment helped him fully cool his temper and think clearly.

If Hawke had stayed to lunch with Varric, he might not be home for another hour. Someone would have noticed and run to the estate with news if the Champion had been injured—

The front door opened, interrupting his thoughts and pacing.

Hawke came in, face pale and drawn with worry, none of his usual bounce in his step.

“Hawke,” Fenris strode over and cupped Hawke’s cheek with a tender touch of his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Hawke sighed into his touch, shoulders relaxing with relief.

“A pesky blood mage we’ll eventually need to find,” he said with a poor try at humor. Hawke took Fenris’ hand and led him up to their bedroom. “Best to keep prying ears away,” he said with a sad smile, gently closing the door and locking it.

Fenris walked toward the settee at the foot of their bed, but paused in the middle of the room when Hawke didn’t follow. He stood by the door, hands at his sides, fingers twitching with nervousness.

Nausea sloshed in Fenris’ stomach. In all the years they’d known each other, he’d never seen Garrett nervous.

“When I left here this morning, I don’t think I made it to Varric’s.” He took a deep breath. “Everything past our front stoop is blank in my mind, until I found myself trying to kiss Caroline while she pushed me away and told me to come to my senses.”

Fenris’ nausea exploded into sharp dragons’ wings leaving a multitude of bloody scratches inside him as they tried to pound their way out of his chest. His heart soared with the possibility that Hawke might deep-down love Caroline, too, but his heart was also pierced by her rejection and whatever terrible magic had forced the situation in the first place. Clearly, none of them were safe.

“Is she okay?” Fenris asked.

“What?” Hawke looked surprised. “Of course. I didn’t hurt her, we didn’t kiss, and we left on friendly terms.”

“No, I mean from whomever overpowered your mind this morning.”

“Shit,” Hawke whispered, as comprehension washed his face white again and he leaned back against their bedroom door.

Someone knocked and he jumped up.

“Message from Master Tethras,” Bodhan’s voice came through muffled.

Hawke hurriedly flipped the lock, yanked open the door, and accepted the sealed note, promptly closing and locking the door again. Bodhan’s soft footfalls faded down the carpeted hall.

“It’s his handwriting,” Hawke held up the envelope for Fenris to see, “and the seal’s unbroken.”

Hawke ripped it open and laughed in relief.

“ _Dear Hawke and Broody_ ,” he read aloud, “Drinks are at seven. Rivaini, Aveline, and Caroline are in. Blondie’s still on the fence. Don’t be late.”

“If he’s got her RVSP, Caroline’s with Varric already,” Fenris smiled in relief, too. The Hanged Man was her last stop on her Tuesday potion deliveries, and Varric always talked her ear off for the rest of the day. She’d be safe with him until they got there. “We can go early, talk over our options with Caroline and Varric before dinner.”

“Yes,” Hawke smiled at him gratefully, “We’ll figure out a buddy system or something for security until we get this mess figured out.”

“A buddy system,” Fenris agreed softly, lips twitching in a sad smile. It’s what you’d do for friends or acquaintances.

Hawke leaned back against the door again and crossed his arms with his usual, easy swagger. “What is it?”

“I love you,” Fenris was surprised the words came out soft and sweet, instead of flavored with the raw desperation that clawed in his throat.

Hawke’s expression softened. “I love you, too. You’re not . . . mad at me, are you?”

Fenris slowly approached Hawke and took his hands in his own.

“No. I love you.” He brushed his lips against Hawke’s, light as an elusive spring breeze. “I love you.”

Fenris dipped his tongue between Hawke’s lips, tasting sugar and blueberries inside. With a groan, he angled his head and lapped below Hawke’s lower lip, catching his salty maleness under the tantalizing scruff of his short beard.

Hawke took Fenris’ hips and guided him flush against him, proving they were both more than ready for each other.

“Fenris,” he breathed out as he leaned his head back for Fenris to trace kisses down his corded throat. “Make love with me.”


	3. Something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

_Fenris loves me._

They’d said the words before, but they resonated more today, filled him in a new way. Hawke also felt another calming presence in the room, though she was not here. Had he imagined a spark of hope in Fenris’ eyes when he’d confessed to almost-kissing Caroline? That miracle could make his charmed, risen-from-the-slums life perfect.

Fenris’ next kiss wiped all outside thoughts away.

Hawke drifted down under smooth waves of sensation that filled him like a sun-warmed ocean. He was in over his head and content, drifting wherever the flowing current of Fenris’ kisses took him.

They slowly made their way toward the bed, pausing for more soft kisses and exploring touches. They undressed each other, placing their clothes and Hawke’s magic staff on the settee, and Fenris guided Hawke down onto his back on the bed.

“Well,” Hawke gave his love a flirty smile, “this is new.” With a few variations—the most exhilarating being taken by Fenris from behind with Hawke’s chest and erection pinned up against the solid wall—they usually spooned on their sides in bed, Hawke’s larger form wrapped around Fenris while Fenris gripped Hawke’s wrists and cussed beautifully in Tevene.

“I want to see you,” Fenris said.

“See?” Hawke slid himself further up the bed, stretching his arms up overhead with an exaggerated shake of his hips to show off his eager, throbbing dick. Fenris chuckled.

Entirely too slow for Hawke’s growing excitement, Fenris and took their jar of oil from the bedside table and poured some of the gold fluid in his palm, rubbing it between his hands. He ran a finger up the center of Hawke’s abdomen, sending sparks of pleasure up his chest and down his cock.

“Fenrissss,” Hawke groaned out.

Fenris soothed the oil across Hawke’s belly, down lower along his shaft, around his balls, and—finally, finally—behind and into his ass, making Hawke gasp and arch like it was their first time all over again. With a hum of approval, Fenris slipped a second finger in, immediately finding the spot that made Hawke’s breath hitch and blood thrum.

Eyes closed, neck arched toward the ceiling, Hawke was nearly undone when he felt Fenris bend to lick pre-cum off his cock, still moving his powerful fingers in just the right ways to make Hawke writhe.

Fenris’ fingers stilled and Hawke clenched around them, not wanting the flood of sensations to stop. He tilted his head up to look at Fenris, kneeling there with his fingers inside him, a pleased smirk on his face, fisting golden oil onto his own thick cock with slow motions.

Hawke sighed and relaxed into the pure beauty of the sight.

They sighed together when Fenris removed his fingers and guided his cock inside. Hawke bent his neck up awkwardly to place a quick kiss on Fenris’ open lips, and lay back, gripping Fenris’ shoulders as Fenris rocked his hips in a steady and growing rhythm.

Fenris held himself up with one hand on the bed, eyes locked on Hawke’s face. With his other hand, he stroked Hawke’s cock in pace with his thrusts, squeezing or flicking his thumb over the tip at surprising moments to drive them both higher.

Flying over the edge of release, Hawke cried out Fenris’ name, and Fenris tumbled right after him hips jerking erratically until he was spent.

Hawke floated, wrapped in a warm cloud of happiness, as their heaving breaths slowed. Fenris cleaned them up with the edge of the sheet and lay his cheek to Hawke’s chest, resting between his legs.

Hawke pulled the deep red comforter up over them both and enjoyed the feel of his love’s easy breathing as Fenris drifted into dozing.

He’d have to ask Fenris about “making love” again sometime soon. It was a rousing change from their usual “let’s take a tumble,” or “I want you” sex. Not better; just another part of the incredible adventure of their life together.

Hawke settled into the mattress. He’d give Fenris a few more minutes to sleep, then suggest they dress for dinner.

-

Fenris hovered between dreams and waking, aware of Hawke’s warm arms around him, and oblivious to outside noises.

The front door slamming jolted him wide awake.

“Hawke!” Anders’ panicked shout carried clearly up the stairs and through their closed bedroom door.

“I’ll find out what it is while you get dressed,” Hawke said, throwing on his red dressing gown and rushing out the door, which bounced open an inch when it didn’t latch properly on his way out.

“What is it?” Hawke called out before he was all the way down the hall.

“Caroline’s missing, taken!” Anders’ voice reached a frantic pitch. “She didn’t bring me my morning delivery, nor did she show for lunch with Varric.”

Terror ran through Fenris’ veins like ice-water.

“Are you sure?” Hawke demanded gruffly. “Varric sent a note saying she’d agreed to drinks.”

“Yes, first thing this morning. She was at the Hanged Man by sunrise because the bartender’s kid has an ear infection and they were out of potion.

“She went back to her office, but didn’t show for lunch—and, and, and—”

“Anders! Spit it out!” Fenris had never heard Hawke shout at the healer before. Under any other circumstances it would have pleased him; now it just added to his fear for Caroline.

“One of the merchants in Lowtown saw her leaning on a stranger as they got into a carriage. He sent his son ‘round to me to see if she was ill. I tell you, someone’s dragged her off!”

“Anders, we’ll find them,” Hawke no longer shouted, but his commanding voice carried to every corner of the house nonetheless. “Go, get Merrill and Isabela and meet us at Varric’s.”

“Not Aveline?”

“No, the City Guard can’t be involved. Go!”

Hawke’s heavy, running steps sounded on the stairs.

Fenris dressed hurriedly, pulled his favorite broadsword from the back of the armoire, and strapped it on his back.

Hawke burst in the room and didn’t bother to close the door.

“I suppose you heard?” he asked, tossing off his robe and yanking on his jeans, not bothering with his smalls.

“Yes.”

Hawke yanked on the rest of his clothes and armor, and strapped on his staff. “Let’s go.”

Fenris had to tell him, make sure Hawke trusted him enough to go along on this one. All their lives depended on it.

“Garrett.” Why wasn’t his voice trembling like his heart?

The mage paused and met his eye, lips parted in surprise. Fenris had never called him by his given name before.

“I love her.”

To Fenris’ shock, Hawke grinned, strode over and crushed him in a heavy kiss.

“I love her, too. Let’s go find her.”


	4. Raw lyrium rescue

Not five minutes after Hawke’s attempt to kiss her, Caroline secured fresh healing potions in a basket and stepped out her door, straight into the arms of a mage she didn’t know.

“Fool,” the dark-haired woman spat in her face and pinned Caroline’s arms to her sides. “I give you a gift and you refuse it. You could be fucking your brains out with the Champion of Kirkwall, but you insist on doing things the hard way!”

Caroline opened her mouth to scream, but never had the chance. Something heavy hit her head and she was enveloped in unknowing blackness.

The downside of Caroline’s gift was she couldn’t lounge in a foggy state that numbed pain: She was either wide awake or deep in the Fade. Or completely unconscious.

She jolted back to herself, instantly aware that she lay on a rocky stone floor of an abandoned warehouse with burning lyrium cuffs shackled around her wrists. She sat up to find her arms dragging heavy lyrium chains that snaked into two round lyrium balls, big as boulders.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” The young woman who approached her wore rich robes and flawless makeup, but her fair face was gaunt in the way Templars became after years of Lyrium. For Lyrium to take that kind of toll on a mage, she had to be eyeball-deep in blood magic. The kind that took more than the life of those sacrificed in the rituals.

“They poison Templars in less than an hour, overwhelm mages’ powers to make them helpless.” She smirked. “But, then, you’re always helpless aren’t you?”

Caroline remained silent. She’d give this bitch nothing, no matter how much her arms hurt. Her wrists felt scalded; she’d surely have scars, if she got out of here alive.

_What are my options?_

Could the shackles be removed safely, or did you have to chop a hand off? How close did you have to be to the chains to feel their poison? Her captor had a least twenty thugs with her, all of them keeping to the outer edges of the cavernous room, mumbling to each other. She doubted one would venture close enough for her to sneak a knife off his belt.

When Hawke showed up—there was no way the Champion wouldn’t notice her disappearance, and there was no way he wouldn’t rashly run after her—would he come alone, or drag the whole gang with him?

How many of her friends would die today? Possibly none, possibly all. Worrying wouldn’t change that.

Mind clear and ready, Caroline waited.

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” a beefy man with a dented shield grumbled to his friend.

“It is exactly what you all signed up for,” the gaunt woman strode to the middle of the room like she was on stage.

“No,” he spat out. “Distract the Champion, lure the elf away. Mages subdue him before he knows what’s coming.” His buddy gripped his arm and he shook him off.

 _Fuck,_ Caroline thought, _this is all to get Fenris._

“A full-scale battle with the Champion is your worst idea ever. Months of planning down the drain, Vicki,” he went on, “because you got impatient and grandiose!”

She flung a hand up, enveloping him in a cone of fire. He screamed in high staccato beats, then fell silent to the ground, his burning body filling the room with the nauseating smell of burning fats and oils. His friend shook his head at the mess, but didn’t seem all that upset.

“It’s Victoria,” she said haughtily. “Anyone else?”

“We live to serve!” a group of six mages chanted and knelt on one knee, their fists over their hearts.

“To serve!” the warriors and rogues echoed, bowing with their fists over their hearts.

“Get this piece of shit out of here,” Victoria gestured toward the body.

A brown-haired mage, his hollow cheeks well on their way to being as sharp as his mistress’, jumped to his feet and froze the burning body in a block of ice. Three warriors picked it up and carried it out the back door.

As the back door shut, the sound of breaking glass crashed in the front, mingling with strangled cries of men. Three of the mages and half the other men ran to the front rooms.

“It’s the Champion and his mage friends!” one of them shouted, plunging into the front room.

Even with the chaos around her, Caroline sighed in relief. With Merrill and Anders’ help, Hawke would survive the day, even if she didn’t make it herself.

Victoria hissed between her teeth. “The rest of you, hold position! We’ll surround them in here.”

In less than a minute, Hawke, Anders, and Merrill filled the doorway, but didn’t pass inside. They drew all Victoria’s men toward the front of the room and cast spells with dizzying speed.

“Where’s Isabela?” Caroline whispered.

“Right here, Sweetness,” the pirate de-cloaked, revealing her curvy form—and Fenris, whom she held by the wrist. “The bastards out back are dead.”

“And Varric?”

“Stalling Aveline,” Isabela whipped a steel file out of her bodice and bent to deal with the shackles.

“Don’t!” Caroline warned, too late.

“ _Fuck me!_ ” Isabela hissed under her breath, snatching her hands back, red blisters on her fingers already. The file fell to the floor in a steaming, molten blob. She looked to Caroline in horror, “Baby, what did she do to you?”

“It’s raw lyrium. You shouldn’t stand this close to me.”

“Stand back, Isabela,” Fenris said calmly. She scurried back and he squatted down in front of Caroline.

“There are twenty-six of them,” Caroline said, “including six mages, minus the three warriors you killed and whoever Hawke caught out front, plus Victoria—she’s pretty high on Lyrium.”

“I’m sorry,” Fenris rested his warm hand over Caroline’s, a new depth to his gaze she couldn’t identify. “They wanted me.”

“Yes.”

“Hurry,” Isabela said, “They’ll notice us soon.”

Fenris took one of the shackles in his hands. With a flash of glowing silver along his skin, he swiftly pried it apart with his fingers like a soft loaf of bread fresh from the oven. He pried off the other just as deftly, and scooped her up in his arms.

“Fenris! I can walk. I’m not hurt.”

“You are,” he set her on her feet and lifted one of her hands to inspect the red welts around her wrist. To her utter shock, he placed a gentle kiss over her burn, where it ran over the pulse in the underside of her wrist, and placed her palm on his chest, over his heart. “I’m sorry.”

“We can’t,” Caroline yanked her hand away, scowling. “You’re with Garrett—with Hawke.”

He smiled secretively.

Isabela scoffed and rolled her eyes. “We’ll talk about it later.

“Here,” she handed Caroline three little black pouches and her spare knife from her boot, “stealth powder and a blade. Go hide!”

The two women dropped powder in tandem and Caroline took shelter behind some crates near a side wall.

Fenris plunged into the battle with a roar, dispatching three men at once with a wide swing and watery crunch of flesh and bones. Caroline flinched and watched on, ready to run right or left if the skirmish neared her hiding place.

All the lower-ranking mages were already dead on the floor, some bleeding, some smoldering from magic. Without their help, the warriors and rogues tired quickly.

Victoria fell with a shriek, Isabela’s twin blades pulling free of her back as she fell on her face.

Still cloaked, Caroline tiptoed in for a closer look. There might be someone else in hiding who she hadn’t counted, and she didn’t want her friends flanked.

The last three rogues fell in Hawke’s ice spell, shattering as they hit the floor.

“Not bad,” Isabela wiped blood off her blades with a kerchief and sheathed them. “Though I’m starting to wonder if we’re single-handedly wiping out most of Kirkwall’s population. There won’t be anyone left to buy me drinks.”

Caroline pursed her lips to keep from laughing. Anders scowled and Merrill giggled. Fenris crossed the room to verify the men he’d hit were dead.

“Only the baddies,” Hawke grinned and strapped his staff back on. “Where’s Caroline?”

“She was back here,” Fenris rose from his inspection and turned toward the back door.

With a bloody gurgle, Victoria rose to her knees and started to raise a hand of fire toward Fenris’ back. No one else was close or ready.

Caroline slammed Isabela’s knife up under Victoria’s ribcage, dispelling her cloaking powder and sending the blood mage onto her back hard enough to crack her skull open.

Merrill shrieked and covered her mouth. Anders cried out in alarm. Hawke and Isabela watched in wide-eyed silence. Fenris spun to face them.

“Thanks, Isabela,” Caroline smiled at the rogue. “You knew just what I needed.”

Her quip broke the tense silence. Hawke and Isabela chuckled.

“Anders,” Isabela said, “I need you to hold my hand.”

“What?!” the healer backed up a step.

“I’m burned, silly.” She held up her blistered fingers in evidence.

“Oh, right. Just, hold your hands open.” Anders hovered his hands a few inches over Isabela’s and a flow of blue light drifted down.

“Ah,” she said, flexing her hands. “Good as a kiss.”

Anders blushed and stepped back again.

“Anders,” Fenris said, uncharacteristically polite, “Caroline is hurt, too.” He hovered behind her protectively when the healer came over to take a look.

“Ouch,” Anders said. “These are deep, like they’re fused to your magic. I might only make it hurt worse.” His eyes flashed blue and a deeper voice came out, “ _I could do it._ ”

Caroline felt no fear, but everyone else stiffened and Fenris gripped her arms, ready to push her out of harm’s way.

“It’s okay,” she held her arms out, palms up. “Please try.”

With Justice glowing out of Anders’ body, white bits of lighting jumped from his fingers down across her injuries, soaking into the skin like a soft trickle of cool water. The burns instantly faded, and the pain with them.

Fenris gasped and took her right wrist in his hands, running a thumb across the freshly healed skin in wonder. She ignored the erotic tingling Fenris’ touch shot to her core.

“Thank you, Justice—and if I could ask one more thing of you?”

Eyes glowing, Justice nodded Anders’ head.

“Am I right that it’s safe for you to touch raw lyrium?”

He nodded again.

“There’s a lead bin in the alley behind my office. Could you put these shackles in there until I find some dwarves to safely dispose of them? Please?”

He nodded a third time, strode over to the boulder-sized balls, and swept them up in his arms like they were down-filled pillows.

“I’ll go with him,” Merrill offered, and ran ahead to open the back door. She followed Justice-possessed Anders out, leaving Caroline alone with Fenris—who still held her right hand in both of his—Hawke, and Isabela.

Caroline tried to pull her hand out from Fenris’, but he tightened his hold and took a step closer, bending her elbow to cradle her forearm against his chest. Hawke chuckled and came forward to take her other hand in the same manner.

Her heart pounded so hard in her ears, she thought she might go deaf. For once she seemed to be the only person in the room who didn’t understand what was going on.

“We were worried for you,” Hawke said.

Isabela huffed out an annoyed breath, ample bosom bobbing as she fisted her hands on her hips. “Just tell her already, you fools.”

“We love you,” Hawke and Fenris said in unison, then grinned at each other and laughed.

Caroline was stunned. It wasn’t something she’d considered before. She’d been resigned to never being more than a friend to either of them. Could she really share a life with both of them?

“You—”

A commotion of booted feet broke out in the front rooms. Fenris and Hawke spun around, drawing their weapons. Isabela rushed to Caroline’s side.

“Hawke!” Guard Captain Aveline’s voice rang out. “This had better not be your doing!”

“I told you, Guard Captain,” Varric’s voice carried around the corner, “Hawke and Broody are out on the coast having a picnic. No way any of our friends are mixed up in this business.”

“Time to go, luv,” Isabela grabbed Caroline’s hand and dropped stealth powder, dragging her out the back door and leaving Hawke and Fenris to hurry after them.


	5. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Caroline’s happy heart drifted in her chest like a fluffy white cloud as Isabela led them back to her Lowtown office. Even with her gift, she couldn’t have imagined such a successful solution to Hawke’s mishap this morning.

“Hey,” Hawke pouted, “I thought we’d go back to our house.”

“A lady needs her own space, Hawke,” Isabela said. She waited on the stoop while Caroline unlocked the door and ushered the men inside. Hawke and Fenris laid their weapons on the bench by the door.

“Hey,” the rogue said, grabbing her in a tight hug. “If those two louts don’t treat you right, you come find me.”

“Thanks, Izzy. Darts tomorrow?”

“Yeah, at six. I’ll buy you a real glass of wine.”

Isabela kissed her cheek and spun off down the street, disappearing in a cloud of dark smoke.

Caroline went inside and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Hawke’s face was flushed red. “We, uh, didn’t give you a chance to . . . that is—I mean . . . are you and Isabela together?!”

Fenris shook his head, lips trembling with silent laughter as he leaned back on the wall and crossed his arms. It was a thrilling reversal to see him be the mirthful one while Hawke struggled.

“No, Garrett,” Caroline explained with a smile. “Women often hang out or work together without talking about men or screwing each other.”

Fenris coughed out a laugh and Hawke scowled. “It was a serious question, you two.”

“Yes,” Caroline’s smile turned sultry as she stepped toward Hawke. “A serious question deserves a serious answer.”

Fenris straightened and moved to her side, watching her watch Hawke. He was smaller than Hawke, but still a full head taller than she was. The thrum of male heat he radiated made her muscles quake.

“Which serious question?” Hawke asked, brow wrinkled in irritation.

“Do I love you both and am I willing to share?”

Surprise wiped the frown from Hawke’s face, and he whispered, “Do you?”

She felt Fenris lean another inch closer.

“I do.”

She pushed Hawke backward until he sat with a plunk on the tall stool by her herbs table, bringing them eye-to-eye for her to stand between his knees. She reached back for Fenris’ hand and drew him flush to her right hip. Fenris’ hands cupped her lower abdomen and backside and he leaned in to kiss her behind the ear. Hawke watched with wide-eyed amazement.

“What’s the matter Garrett?” Caroline teased. “Don’t you want to join?”

“Everything he knows about the clitoris comes from a Tethras novel,” Fenris murmured against her neck. Hawke blushed and Caroline barked out a deep belly laugh that made Fenris’ touch on her stomach deliciously tighten.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she said, tenderly tracing Hawke’s lip with an index finger. “It’s our first time—lots to explore.”

Fire and hope kindled in Hawke’s eyes. He jumped up and crushed his mouth to hers while Fenris continued laving at her neck and massaging her hips.

Core already throbbing, she groaned into Hawke’s mouth.

_Finally._

-

Hawke’s mind swam with tastes, feelings, and sensations. Caroline’s lips tasted like elfroot. He dipped his tongue inside to find fruity wine and something tantalizingly salty. His chest was filled to bursting with the joy of touching her skin and Fenris’ at the same time.

Hawke unstrapped his armguard and tossed it on the table so he could wrap his arms more tightly around her. Fenris slid from her hip to press up against her back, pinning Hawke’s arms between them and making Caroline gasp and press more firmly against Hawke’s chest.

Hawke bent down to claim her mouth again, plunging his tongue in more forcefully this time, grinding his straining cock against her belly.

Caroline squeezed her hands between them and yanked at the button and fly of his jeans, sending a thrill straight down his dick. He threw his head back for air, trying to hold on.

“No smalls?” she giggled. “Probably no room, your pants are so beautifully skin-tight.”

Hawke stepped back to wrestle down his pants, which caught on his boots. She giggled again. With a curse, he plopped his bare ass on the tall stool and yanked off the rest of his clothes, tossing them aside.

When he looked up, all the breath whooshed out of him. They were gorgeous.

Caroline had her arms arched up behind her to hold Fenris’ head while he cradled her from behind. One of his hands cupped her chin, tilting her face up and back for him to lean over her shoulder and delve in her mouth with his tongue. Hawke knew what that felt like—his hips jerked with the memory. Fenris’ other hand rubbed rhythmically around one of her breasts. Fenris pinched her nipple through the fabric of her dress and she squeaked into the kiss.

“Hawke,” Fenris lifted his lips an inch from Caroline’s, keeping his hands firm so she couldn’t change positions or look away. “Her boots.” Fenris returned to her mouth.

Hawke knelt in front of them, the cool wood floor hard under his bare knees. A thrill rushed through him as he slipped his hands under her skirt and ran one up over her hot and trembling calf. He gripped her leg and removed first one boot, then the other.

“Smalls,” Fenris barked out and returned to the kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hawke sassed, “and breastband. Keep your mouth busy elsewhere, Fenris.”

Caroline hummed in approval.

Hawke slid his hands up her thighs, yanking her smalls off. He let her dusty skirt fall over his head and shoulders, enveloping him inside with her quivering warmth.

She smelled fantastic. None of the naughty books in his library had properly described the tangy scent of a woman. He pressed his bearded cheek into her perfectly rounded thigh and inhaled deeply through his nose.

 _Breastband._ Right, he had a task.

On his way up, he couldn’t help teasing the tip of his tongue once between her netherlips to sneak a taste, making her hips jerk against his face. The spicy nectar was pure magic, pushing his pounding blood into a faster boil.

Hawke yanked Caroline’s breastband down to her hips and struggled with the buckle in the dark for a moment before it came loose. He tossed it away and reared up under her skirt, pulling the fabric with him fast enough to make her gasp. Fenris released her long enough for Hawke to yank it off over her head, then gripped her hips from behind.

Hawke’s cock quivered. “You’ve got to get naked fast, Fenris,” he said, “or I’m going to leave you both behind.”

Caroline tried to laugh, but her heaving breath wouldn’t allow it.

Fenris pushed her flush against Hawke, guiding him back to sit on the tall stool. “Hold her.”

Hawke wrapped his arms around Caroline and rested his forehead on her shoulder in contentment. She sighed into his neck.

“This is nice,” she said.

Fenris chuckled, “I didn’t mean _only_ hold her.”

Hawke looked up and licked his lips at what he saw. Finally, Fenris was beautifully bare.

Fenris watched Hawke watch him back as Fenris again took hold of her hips.

Fenris kept his eyes locked on Hawke’s as he spoke in Caroline’s ear, “Do you want to ride The Champion of Kirkwall?”

She gasped with arousal. “Yes!”

“Do you want us both?” Fenris went on.

“Yes!”

“Together?”

“Damn it, Fenris!” She reached back to grab his hips. “Yes, now stop dicking around!”

“Well, then,” Fenris took her hands and placed them on Hawke’s thighs, where Hawke trapped them under his own hands. “Let’s get me ready for you.”

Fenris yanked her hips back so she bent forward, her grip on Hawke the only thing keeping her head up at table height.

Hawke tightened his hands on hers and watched with fascination as Fenris parted her labia with his fingers and slowly entered her from behind. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Fenris!” she gasped out, hiding her face in the side of her arm and digging her nails into Hawke’s thighs. “Garrett!”

Fenris gave her three hard thrusts and pulled out again, dripping with her juices.

Correction: _That_ was the hottest thing Hawke had ever seen.

“Come back,” she moaned.

Fenris placed a tender kiss on the back of her neck and lifted her up onto Hawke’s lap. Hawke hooked his ankles around the legs of the stool and whispered a kiss over her parted lips, brushing her hair gently back from her forehead.

Hawke tingled all over as two sets of hands joined his own to help guide his cock inside Caroline, making her sigh out his name and clench around him. He stilled, holding her tight.

“Fenris?” he asked.

“Here,” Fenris murmured, smoothing his hands down her buttocks and parting them with his thumbs, easing the tip of his cock against her. “Caroline—”

“Yes!” she demanded, and Fenris slid inside, making her cry out.

They watched her heaving. She clawed at Hawke’s thighs, little, sharp, erotic pinches that made him quiver and want to fuck her senseless, but she wasn’t ready yet.

After a moment, her shoulders relaxed and she groaned with pleasure, “So full.”

With a nod from Fenris, Hawke began thrusting his hips up in a slow rhythm that Fenris matched from behind. Fenris planted his hands on the stool to keep them all steady, rubbing Hawke’s hips with his thumbs. Caroline grabbed Hawke’s hair in her hands and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Hawke cupped her cheek with one hand and used his other to explore where their bodies joined.

When he found her clit with his thumb, she gasped, but didn’t break their kiss. Hawke increased their pace and pushed his thumb harder, tumbling her over the edge of release.

Fenris lifted one of his hands to muffle her scream in his palm. Her shockwaves pulled Hawke right over after her, and he groaned into her shoulder as he emptied into her.

Spent but still cradled inside her wet heat, Hawke wrapped his arms around the man and woman he loved, holding them tight together for Fenris to piston his hips until he emptied himself into her and dropped his cheek to her back, panting.

“So,” Hawke said cheekily, “That’s what it’s like with a woman.”

Fenris groaned and Caroline laughed.

“There are other ways, too,” she said with a wink, “but I think we should get cleaned up first. I was so wrapped up in you two, I didn’t notice what a mess we are.”

She licked her thumb and brushed it over his forehead. “You’ve got blood on your face from the fight, and I’m sure all our clothes are ruined.”

“Not my favorite jeans,” Hawke quipped, trying to not be distracted by Fenris pulling out of Caroline and helping her off Hawke’s lap.

“We’ll get you another pair,” she said.

“We?” Fenris asked, grinning like a hungry wolf. The sight made Hawke start to harden again already.

“Yeah, is the bed at the house big enough for all three of us?”

“Bed and tub,” Hawke said cheerfully. “You want to move in? We’d love to _have_ you.”

Fenris groaned and covered his face. “I agree with the sentiment, not the pun.”

“I’m not giving up my office,” she said.

“Of course,” Hawke said. “Plus you can have one of the studies at the house for your herbs, too.”

“I’m _in_ ,” she grinned back at him and Fenris groaned again.

“Speaking of in,” Hawke drew her close. “I’ve got this dream—”

“Hawke,” Fenris warned, but he ignored him.

“—where your fingers are inside me while I take Fenris. You see, there’s more than Tethras in my—our—personal library, and there are some things I’d like to try.”

He loved the feel of her laugh against his chest as she reached back for Fenris’ hand.

“Yes, Hawke. Fenris. I want to try it all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Thanks for reading. Check out my [Pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/dafan7711/hawke-fenris-caroline/) for this story.
> 
> Chapter 17 of Cullen and Ev's story, [Heal My Heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5728576/chapters/13199938), is in progress.


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